The Celestial Hall of Eternity was quiet save for the hum of the radiant globe projecting the Garden of Eden. Adam and Lilith worked in harmony, tending to the lush paradise. As Samael, Levia, Plutus, and the seraphim observed, the initial tension from the day before had dissipated—if only slightly. For a moment, it seemed like everything was under control.

But the quiet didn't last.

"They've been there long enough," one of the seraphim muttered, their glowing wings rustling with irritation. "Still no children."

Another seraphim sighed, folding their arms. "We've entrusted them with a sacred task. If they cannot fulfill it, they're failing not just us but God Himself."

Plutus tilted his head, his jester's bells tinkling faintly as he shifted. "Why not just make more humans, then?" he asked, his tone both curious and exasperated. "You lot are all about creating things. Just snap your fingers and boom—population problem solved."

The seraphim bristled at his words, their pride visibly wounded. Sera raised a hand to silence them before the conversation escalated. Her gaze turned to Plutus, her voice calm but firm. "It has to be Adam and Lilith," she explained. "They were made to be the foundation of humanity. If we simply created more, they would not learn the responsibility of nurturing and guiding others. They wouldn't understand what it means to care for the lives they bring into the world."

Plutus frowned, his golden-green wings fluttering. "Fair point, I guess," he conceded. "But what if they're just not ready yet? You're asking a lot of two people who've only just started figuring things out."

"That's not an excuse for delay," a seraphim snapped, their frustration evident. "If they cannot fulfill their purpose, then perhaps they should face consequences."

The room grew still as the words sank in.

Levia's serene expression darkened. "Consequences?" she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "They're living beings, not tools. You can't punish them for not meeting your arbitrary timeline."

The seraphim's response was dripping with passive aggression. "We understand your compassion, Virtue of Kindness," one of them said, their tone almost mocking. "But perhaps you're too soft to see the bigger picture. This is about fulfilling God's will."

Plutus scoffed, stepping forward. "Oh, right, because forcing them into something they're not ready for is such a divine approach," he said, his voice rising. "You're not helping them grow—you're just trying to tick a box so you can feel like you've done your job."

Levia added, her voice steadier but no less resolute, "They need time. Time to learn, time to understand themselves and each other. You can't rush that, no matter how impatient you are."

The seraphim's feathers ruffled with indignation. "Perhaps you virtues should stick to your roles and leave the actual work to those entrusted with it."

"Enough," Sera said sharply, cutting through the brewing argument. Her voice carried the weight of her authority, and even the virtues fell silent. "There will be no punishment," she continued, her tone brooking no argument. "However, I will speak to them again. They need to understand the importance of their duty and the urgency of this task."

Samael, who had been quiet until now, shifted uncomfortably. His glowing eyes flicked between the seraphim and Sera, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. Something about this situation felt wrong—like they were on the edge of a precipice, and one wrong move would send everything spiraling out of control.

As Sera prepared to descend to Eden, Samael finally spoke up. "Sera," he said hesitantly, "are you sure this is the right approach? They've already made it clear they need more time. Pushing them further might... backfire."

Sera glanced at him, her expression softening briefly. "I understand your concern, Samael," she said. "But this is my responsibility. I will ensure that Adam and Lilith understand their purpose."

Samael wanted to argue, to tell her that this wasn't about understanding but about forcing compliance. But he could see the determination in her eyes, the unyielding conviction that she was doing what was best.

As she descended toward the globe, Samael turned to Levia and Plutus. "I don't like this," he murmured, his voice low enough that the seraphim wouldn't hear. "Something's going to go wrong. I can feel it."

Levia placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her green eyes warm and reassuring. "We'll handle it if it does," she said softly. "You're not alone in this, Samael."

Plutus nodded, though his expression was more serious than usual. "We've got your back, mate," he said. "No matter what happens."

Samael nodded, but the uneasy feeling in his chest didn't fade. As the globe shifted to show Sera approaching Adam and Lilith, he could only watch and hope that his instincts were wrong.

———————————————————————

In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Lilith were seated under the shade of a massive tree, its golden leaves shimmering softly in the sunlight. The serene scene was disrupted as Sera descended, her radiant wings casting a holy glow across the garden. Adam and Lilith looked up, their faces showing contrasting emotions—Adam's caution and Lilith's defiance.

"Adam, Lilith," Sera greeted, her tone calm but tinged with the weight of expectation. "I've come to speak with you about the urgency of your role. You were created for a sacred purpose—to begin the human race, to nurture and guide it into prosperity."

Lilith raised an eyebrow, her posture stiffening. "We're aware of our purpose," she replied, her voice measured but firm. "But as we've said before, we need time. We're not ready."

Sera's serene expression faltered slightly. "This isn't a matter of readiness," she said, her tone taking on a subtle edge. "This is about fulfilling God's will. You've been given a divine task—one that is both an honor and a blessing. It is not something to delay or question."

Lilith stood, crossing her arms as she stared Sera down. "An honor and a blessing?" she said, her voice rising. "I never asked for this. I never asked to be created, or to carry the weight of this 'divine task.' You talk about blessings, but all I feel is pressure and control."

Adam hesitated before rising to stand beside Lilith. He looked at Sera nervously, his voice softer but still clear. "We're not saying we won't do it," he said, glancing at his wife for reassurance. "But can't we have time to... figure things out? This is all so new. Can't you... lay off a bit?"

Sera's patience wavered, frustration flickering in her usually composed demeanor. "This isn't just about you," she said, her voice growing sharper. "This is about humanity itself. You were made for this, chosen for this. You cannot simply delay God's will because you feel unprepared. This task is far greater than your personal desires."

Lilith's eyes blazed with defiance. "Greater than our personal desires? We're supposed to bring life into this world, but you expect us to do it without any regard for what we feel or what we need? If this is God's will, then maybe God should have thought about that before creating us!"

The air seemed to grow heavier as Sera's frustration met Lilith's fiery resistance. Samael, watching from the Celestial Hall, was captivated. He couldn't help but admire Lilith's courage, the way she stood her ground against an authority as powerful as Sera. A faint blush crept across his cheeks as he murmured, "She's incredible."

Back in the hall, the seraphim were far less impressed. Their wings rustled with agitation, their voices a mix of shock and indignation. "How dare she speak to Sera that way?" one of them hissed. "She's defying her creator! This is unacceptable."

Another seraphim nodded, their tone cold. "She must learn respect. Sera has shown nothing but patience, and this is how she repays it?"

Levia stepped forward, her expression calm but resolute. "Respect goes both ways," she said, her voice steady. "Lilith has every right to express herself. She's not a tool, and you can't treat her like one."

Plutus, standing beside her, crossed his arms. "Exactly! She's got a spine, and good on her for using it. She's not hurting anyone—she's just standing up for herself. Maybe you lot could learn a thing or two from that."

The seraphim turned on them, their feathers bristling. "You virtues forget your place," one of them snapped. "God entrusted us with this project. We don't need your opinions or interference."

Levia's usually gentle demeanor hardened. "If you think treating Lilith like this is going to help her fulfill her purpose, you're wrong. Compassion and understanding are what she needs, not demands and threats."

As the bickering intensified, Sera, still in the garden, began to feel the discord echoing through the Celestial Hall. Her connection to the seraphim allowed her to sense their growing agitation, the brewing storm of conflict threatening to spill over. She sighed, her frustration mounting. Turning back to Adam and Lilith, she softened her tone slightly.

"This conversation isn't over," she said firmly. "But for now, I will leave you to reflect on what I've said."

Without waiting for a response, Sera ascended back toward the Celestial Hall. As she re-entered the space, the tension was palpable. The seraphim fell silent, their gazes fixed on her expectantly.

Samael, Levia, and Plutus stood to the side, watching her warily. Samael's unease deepened as he caught the faint flicker of frustration in Sera's eyes.

Sera took a steadying breath, trying to compose herself, but the discord in the room grated on her already strained nerves.

"I was gone for only a few minutes," Sera said, her voice low but laced with annoyance. "And somehow, everything has devolved into chaos. What happened?"

The seraphim immediately began speaking over one another, their voices a cacophony of indignation. "The virtues undermined us again!" one of them snapped. "They defended Lilith's blatant disrespect and questioned our handling of the situation!"

"They think they know better than us," another chimed in, glaring at Levia and Plutus. "Always sticking their noses where they don't belong."

Levia, standing beside Plutus and Samael, flinched at the venom in their words. Her lip trembled as she tried to speak, her usual calm composure wavering. "We were only—only trying to help," she stammered, her voice breaking slightly. "This isn't about us versus you; this is about what's right for Adam and Lilith. Can't you see that?"

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she bit her lip to stop herself from sobbing. Plutus, standing beside her, saw her distress and something inside him snapped.

"No, I've had enough!" Plutus roared, his voice booming through the hall. His wings flared, and his usual jovial demeanor was replaced by righteous fury. "You lot don't get it, do you? You think this is about power or authority, but it's not! It's about people. Adam, Lilith, Samael, everyone you've hurt with your arrogance and ego!"

The seraphim recoiled slightly at the intensity of Plutus's outburst, but he didn't stop. He turned toward Sera, his voice trembling with anger. "Do you even realize what you've done? You made Samael cry! You've treated the virtues—your peers—as nuisances instead of allies! And now you've made Levia, the kindest of us all, break down because of your nasty attitudes!"

Levia reached out to gently touch Plutus's arm, trying to calm him, but he shook his head, his eyes blazing. "No, Levia, they need to hear this. You don't deserve this treatment, and neither does Samael."

Samael stepped forward, his face pale but resolute. "Sera," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his chest, "say something. Anything."

But Sera said nothing. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, as if searching for an answer that wasn't there.

Samael's jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling over. "You know we're right," he said, his voice rising. "Levia, Plutus, Azazil, Asmodel, Veritas, Triel—they're all right! I'm right! And deep down, you and the seraphim know it too! But you refuse to admit it because you're too proud. Too selfish. God gave you this task, and instead of embracing it with humility, you've let it feed your egos."

The seraphim began to protest, but Samael silenced them with a sharp glare. "No. Don't you dare interrupt me. This project is doomed to fail with you in charge. You're the only problem here—not Adam and Lilith, not us virtues, you. And until you realize that, this whole thing will keep falling apart."

Sera's composure finally broke. Her wings unfurled, and her voice cut through the air like a blade. "That's enough, Samael! You think you know better than us? Than me? You're out of line!" She pointed toward the exit, her blue eyes blazing. "Leave. You and the virtues. Leave this hall and don't come back."

Samael stared at her, stunned. His chest felt tight, but he stood his ground. "We were planning to leave anyway," he said quietly, his voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. He turned on his heel, his wings unfurling as he led Levia and Plutus out of the hall. "Come on."

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the seraphim and Sera in tense silence. One of the seraphim sneered, their feathers ruffling. "Who do they think they are? Acting like they know better than us. We were chosen by God—"

"Enough," Sera snapped, her voice sharp and weary. The seraphim fell silent, startled by her tone. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she pressed them together. "I don't want to hear it. This project is God's will, and it's my job to see it through. No more arguments. No more distractions. We finish this, and we please God. That's all that matters."

Her words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the growing storm of conflict she had unintentionally fostered. For all her desire to maintain order, Sera seemed oblivious to the irony of her own actions. And as she turned back to the globe, the tension in the Celestial Hall remained, a fragile silence masking the deeper fractures threatening to shatter the heavens.